


Covet These Moments, Calm and Unstolen

by gwennolmarie



Category: Red Dead Redemption (Video Games)
Genre: Injury, M/M, Sharing a Bed, tent sharing
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-04-13
Updated: 2019-04-13
Packaged: 2020-01-12 12:28:52
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 820
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18446561
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/gwennolmarie/pseuds/gwennolmarie
Summary: Arthur is injured, Charles is generous.





	Covet These Moments, Calm and Unstolen

**Author's Note:**

  * For [TexStudmister](https://archiveofourown.org/users/TexStudmister/gifts).



“I can set yours up too,” Charles offers softly, “Or we can share so we can get out of the rain.”

Arthur glances down at his cut hand with a clenched jaw, feeling useless as the raindrops pelt the two of them.

No chance for a fire to cook the rabbits they’d skinned…

 _Charles_ had skinned, that is, after Arthur sliced clean through the fleshy part of his palm while skinning his.

A stupid mistake, one he hadn’t made in years, if not a decade.

“If you’re sure you’re fine with it,” Arthur gestures with his good hand towards Charles’ already pitched tent.

“I wouldn’t have offered if I wasn’t.”

“‘Course,” Arthur says quietly then gathers his saddle and follows Charles into the younger man’s tent.

They stack the saddles in the corner, trying to delegate the space as well as possible, if only to afford themselves more room to lay down.

Arthur says nothing as he notices the blanket that wraps around his bedroll is dampened.

Charles, of course, notices as well as he unfolds their bedrolls.

“My cover is big enough for the both of us,” Charles says easily, voice soft as ever, but loud enough to be heard over the pattering of rain on the canvas.

“Charles…”

“Arthur, it’s _fine.”_

Arthur bites the inside of his cheek and watches Charles slip out of his holsters, boots, and coat.

A bit of coldness creeps up his spine, the tight squeeze of anxiety in his gut.

He knows why.

He wishes he didn’t.

He copies Charles, unbuckling belts and unfastening buttons before piling his things on their saddles, setting his boots to the side.

Charles is done quicker and folds his coat as a makeshift pillow before laying down, lightly wiping his face free of the raindrops and brushing his wind-swept hair back into place.

Arthur carefully squats then shifts himself to lay on his back on the edge of his bedroll.

Rigid as much as he tries not to be.

A voice in his voice scolding him, ‘Relax. Relax. Relax.’

It almost drowns out Charles’ voice.

“Arthur?”

The older man looks over to see Charles lifting the edge of his blanket in an offering.

Arthur steels his nerves and takes the edge, soft and scratchy wool against his palm as he scoots a little closer to Charles and sets the blanket in place over himself.

Fighting the fabric a little to get it tucked under his socked feet.

He feels a touch more comfortable surrounded by the insular wool, covered from chin to toes.

Safe from the evening chill, humid with the rain and bitter with the wind.

The canvas of the tent blocks out most of the already fading light.

But he can see the edges of Charles’ profile in his peripheral.

Charles isn’t nearly as stiff as Arthur feels, arms crossed loosely over his chest, resting atop the cover.

Eyes closed, but not clenched.

Arthur tries to clear his throat quietly, in hopes it’ll ease the tight feeling.

Charles’ eyes open and the younger man looks around without moving before rolling to face Arthur.

Arthur feels jaw clench.

“How’s your hand?” Charles asks, his voice allowed to be quieter with their proximity, not needing to raise it in order to compete with the weather.

“‘S fine.”

Charles studies him long enough that Arthur starts feeling restless.

Then Charles’ hand raises into his view.

Open palm, facing the top of the tent.

A request.

Arthur presses his lips together, but places his injured hand in Charles’ without hesitation.

Charles carefully moves the makeshift bandage to inspect.

They’d tended to it in field, not deep enough to _need_ stitches, but maybe deep enough to benefit from them.

They were still a day from the gang, and though both men coulda _swore_ they packed a little pouch of medical supplies…

Arthur hisses lightly when Charles manipulates his fingers into flexing.

“Doesn’t seem like it damaged anything serious,” The younger murmurs.

“As I said, _fine.”_

Charles makes a considering noise and replaces the bandage.

“Sure Miss Grimshaw will agree with that.”

Arthur looks at Charles for the first time since laying down, faces him just to squint at him in annoyance.

Sees the corner of Charles’ mouth tug up.

Arthur blinks in surprise and hesitantly smiles back.

It feels covetous.

“Remember to clean it in the morning,” Charles says.

“I’m sure you ain’t gonna let me forget.”

Charles huffs a laugh and lets his head fall back.

Waiting until the last moment to release Arthur’s hand.

Arthur carefully brings it close, cradles it with his other and relishes in the lingering warmth from Charles’ touch.

Charles shifts to get comfortable and gradually slips under, the soft sound of his breathing the loudest thing in the tent as the storm moves West.

Arthur turns on his side and watches the younger man as his own eyes grow tired and finally close.

 

 

 

**Author's Note:**

> this will either be 2 or 3 parts i'm not sure  
> and that rating WILL change lmao  
> tumblr and twitter @gwennolmarie


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